


Song 5:4-5

by angelfeast (miscellanium)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fisting, Other, Tree Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-09
Updated: 2012-02-09
Packaged: 2017-10-30 20:21:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/335688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miscellanium/pseuds/angelfeast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Uriel reached out a hand and touched the bark, that rough contour of Anael's grace, and here the boundary was almost too thin for such coarse physicality; an electric shock, so cold as to be hot, set ou's fingers thrumming.</p><p>[For Porn Battle XIII prompts <em>glory, sufferance, lush</em>]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Song 5:4-5

**Author's Note:**

> uses the gender-neutral pronoun "ou". also, there is tree fisting.

In the state of Kentucky there is an oak tree. Its roots coil through the ground, raising dirt and grass above them like rumpled sheets; its trunk is large enough for three people to circle, fingertip to fingertip, with bark broken into stuttered columns; its many branches reach over 100 meters tall, fanning upward and outward in a way that verges on fractals, like they're unreal—and in a way, they are. The tree is less than thirty years old.

Early one November morning a few years ago an angel visited this tree, walking across the dew-wet grass and leaving a dark, dry trail behind. The body was borrowed, expanding into middle age with an ill-fitting suit, but Uriel never had been one to appreciate human differences. To ou, all flesh was equally useless. The tree, though—it pulsed with a life not of this earth, and Uriel could hear the song of grace humming from each green leaf. ( _Glory, glory, glory_ , came the feeling-words, like ou was home once more and nobody fallen.)

The tree was a manifestation of God's true greatness, an oasis in this desert of creation; it was almost a shame, then, that Uriel was tasked with returning the grace within to its rightful place. But ou would not share such a thought—no, that was not part of ou's duty. Anael had set a poor example, forsaking rather than enduring; now it was Uriel's chance to correct ou, to humble ou under the mighty hand of God.

Uriel reached out a hand and touched the bark, that rough contour of Anael's grace, and here the boundary was almost too thin for such coarse physicality; an electric shock, so cold as to be hot, set ou's fingers thrumming. There was some pain, yes, but what was pain to an angel, a warrior of Heaven? Ou laid the palm of ou's hand flat against the trunk and pressed.

The bark parted around Uriel, slow and tight, edges gripping ou's wrist. This was no exploration of a soul but a touching of pure grace; such power burnt the skin as quickly as Uriel could heal it, sent every nerve ending into overdrive. Ou had the storage vial, warded and ready, in ou's other hand against the bark, but the grace was slippery and aware—pulling out ou's fist with every last strand of grace contained proved difficult.

So, time and again, Uriel pushed in, the tree accommodating ou's fist easily as ou picked up speed; ou knew divine patience, to be sure, but ou also knew divine frustration. As the vial filled the unnatural give of the bark began to fade, scraping skin from Uriel's wrist—ou yanked out ou's fist for the last time, the sap-sticky pop of it seeming to echo in the quiet air. Anael's grace was contained, every last remnant of it, and while the tree's leaves still spread green and sensuous they had gone silent.

 _The gears of Heaven's plans grind exceedingly slowly, but nonetheless they grind_ , thought Uriel. The sun was higher now, and—a shifting of perception, a straining of limited flesh—miles away, a black car was approaching. Its passengers would not find Uriel in the field, not with footprints faded and grass long since sprung back upright.

In the state of Kentucky there is an oak tree, lofty, verdant, and empty.


End file.
